


Cold

by Aylarain



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Let's Be Honest They Were Never Getting a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylarain/pseuds/Aylarain
Summary: It is the sad measure of her life that at least it wasn't Jax. Tara will take a tiny piece of her heart unbroken to her grave.The Season 6 finale from the POV of Tara's body.





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit more dramatic than Tara was on the show, but being dead is a good excuse for drama. No worries, this is not a ghost story. Tara isn't going to haunt anyone as much as she might like to give Gemma a scare.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

It's cold.

Warm is Thomas, her baby sleepy and soft, cradled in her arms. 

Warm is Abel, bright and beautiful, running in the sunshine.

Warm is Jax, bare skin and black ink, hands spreading her knees, clutching her hips, grazing her breasts, cradling the back of her head.

Death is dark and cold and hollow. 

It hurt. Her murder. Violent and brutal and, oh god, it _hurt_. Terror froze in her chest like a block of ice that extended to the tips of her fingers and toes and she so desperately didn’t want to have to go. Tara felt every last beat in her chest as it thumped _Abel Thomas Jax Abel Thomas Jax_ until it slowed and it slowed and it... stopped. Where is the light and the warmth and her mother? 

It is the sad measure of her life that at least it wasn't Jax. Tara will take a tiny piece of her heart unbroken to her grave. 

It wasn't her husband that looks like he was made from California sunshine. It wasn't her husband with his swagger and easy grin that first convinced a teenage Tara to get on the back of his bike and wrap her arms around him. It wasn't her husband leaving a legacy to her sons of their father murdering their mother.

She can’t see and she can’t hear... not like this... but she _knows_ Jax is home. 

The part of Tara still on this earth that doesn’t need blood to pump through her veins is screaming out to stop him. She wants to throw her… _her body_ out the door and drag it down to Hell because _this,_ this is going to destroy him.

Jax etched his mark on her heart and into her skin half a lifetime ago. They were so young when the needle bit into the skin of her back. Holding her hands, drawing circles into her palms, Jax pressed his lips to her knuckles and whispered filthy things in her ears to distract her from the sting. _Oh,_ how he had worshipped her on her hands and knees for him later. 

The crow soaring across her back couldn’t set her free from his reaper come for his due.

Tara tried and she tried, but the darkness came and swallowed him anyway. Now her bones will turn to dust in Charming’s soil. He will carve his vengeance into the earth where her remains rot away with his soul. His honor, this _life,_ will demand a price Tara is sure he cannot survive.

Gemma, Clay, SAMCRO, they stuck their claws in him and ripped out his light. He bled and he bled until his veins were empty and it wasn’t enough until they sunk down, deep into the marrow of his bones. Tara shredded the skin off her hands, ripping the nails from her fingers, but she never got far enough to dig them out. Her husband became a monster with the weight of a devil in black leather and lace on his shoulders.

Her Prince of Charming is awash in red, red blood staining his hands that will never come clean. Every drop poured over her until she drowned in his sins... still... Tara, she _loves_ him. 

She loved him enough to shatter what was left of them and take away their sons to save them from him. 

Tara can’t see the memories flash across her eyelids that won’t open, but she can still _feel_ his face nuzzling her belly, still soft from carrying Thomas, the first night he came home from prison. His tongue tracing silvery lines on her abdomen, fingers spelling out his apologies in the grip on her hips. All of her anger from being left to birth his baby alone eased with the touch and taste of him home, whole and safe and _hers._

He is the other half of her heart that isn't beating. All of their time apart, she could still _feel_ Jax’s fingertips skating along her sides, his chest so warm and solid pressed against her back.Tara always loved it best with his weight pinning her down, hands tugging her hair, breath shuddering in her ear while his hips rocked between her thighs. It felt like he was crawling into her skin and since she was 16 all Tara has ever really wanted was to keep him. 

Tara doesn’t want to go somewhere she can’t _feel_ him. 

Tara can’t _feel_ Jax pick her up off the floor, but she _knows_ how strong and warm his arms are around her. His tears fall to her skin and if she could, she would hold his face between her palms and wipe them away with her thumbs. She’d press her lips to his crown, run her fingers through his hair and tell him to leave. Just grab their boys and go. She wants to whisper her love in his ear one more time because she isn’t sure he knows he still had it. 

Tara wants to surround him in light and warmth and love.

But Tara is dark and cold and hollow. A body with a heart that doesn’t beat, flesh torn and blood spilled.

She is a devoted mother. She is a beloved wife. She is so much more than the sum of the words of an epitaph.

Above all else, she is so heartbreakingly _his._


End file.
